


Gold glitter blush

by DarkSilverWings



Category: Ultimate Spider-Man (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Model and Photographer, Pretty Boys, chance encounter, part time jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 00:53:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11932926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkSilverWings/pseuds/DarkSilverWings
Summary: His face catches the light where it glimmers, gold dust depicting his ethereal essence.And his eyes are so turquoise, somehow enhanced by the small smirk that's sent his way.Gosh, he's sogodawfullyattractive, the glistening of his lips and that smile sending him reeling.OrThere isn't much you can't expect when you work part-time as a model photographer,But there's no poetic description for how he never could've expected this.





	Gold glitter blush

Gold glitter blush  
Peter Parker/Sam Alexander  
  
Peter spends way longer than necessary in the hallways of the modelling center, and more than once he's been told he's definitely weird because his job is literally taking pictures of  _models_ ;  _unbelievably_  attractive people, and he's only a  _college student_. But he really  _is_  trying to do well in college, and as of right now his class average is a lot more important that some girl in too-tight jeans or some guy with half his shirt buttons undone. 

He appreciates eye candy for sure, and he does his fair share of ogling, just not enough to jut into his study time.  
It so happens that the hallways are the quietest.  
Today, his job is meant to be photographing a male model in jeans, possibly a jacket too if the company officials liked said model. Peter couldn't care less. He has a test tomorrow and no time to muck about in thoughts of whoever the workers were mumbling on about. A guy taps his shoulder. "Hey could you...show me where the photo-shoot room is?"

Peter looks up, and the first thing he thinks is that this guy is _ridiculously_  good looking, and if  _he_  was just a  _photographer_ of some dude with an exaggerated jawline, the world is full of sin. The second thing he notices is the guy looks about his age, gorgeous sparkling turquoise eyes purely frustrated beneath long, dark lashes. He's also holding the map upside down.  
"Uh, I'm sorry, do you not speak-? Um,  _où est la salle de_ _séance des photos_ _? Dónde está la sala de fotos?_ "

And this guy is  _smart_  too? 

Peter on the other hand, is looking like a slack jawed idiot with his textbook hitting his leg as his hand goes slack. The book falls.  
Peter snaps out of it, "Oh-! Uhm, y-yeah I can tell you the- photoshoot room? Do...sorry uh- it's this way."  
He points the opposite direction, then shakes his head and leans over for his book to find the boy with the beautiful tan skin is holding it out to him. "Biochem, huh?"  
"Well- yeah, it- yeah."  
The guy grins, "Betcha wouldn't be this flustered if I asked you something off this book." Their fingers don't brush but he clutches the book to his chest to answer, "I don't know, I'm still pretty awkward."

His laugh is tinkling and brings a faint colour to his cheeks that makes Peter smile, "See? You're fine now. So, if it's not too much trouble off your study time-?"  
He realises turquoise-eyes is right, the half smirk more endearing than it should be, and he finds it easier to answer, "Photoshoot room right? C'mon, I'll show you."  
"And I didn't even have to speak French."  
"Well I wouldn't have understood it if you had."  
"I'm pretty surprised myself, I almost flunked it in high school."

As they walk, turquoise-eyes shoves his hands in his pockets and keeps up conversation, easily slipping in when Peter changes languages to the crude Spanish and French he'd learned in high school, bad grammar and all, and his embarrassment is gone before he realises. "So, are you an intern here too?" Peter asks, more than a little curious. "Are you, pocket-square?"  
"No, I work part time a- wait  _what_?"  
"Dude, you're wearing a freaking pocket square."  
"So?"  
"In a  _flannel shirt_."  
"Point taken, turquoise eyes," he nods, continuing until he realises he's said that out loud and the other's smirk turns with a crick of embarrassment as his cheeks darken to a rose-crimson hue. He should be more mortified than he is. 

Turquoise eyes doesn't make it awkward. "Part time? I'm guessing, the design team?"  
"Ouch, I just happened to wear a flannel over my t-shirt. But close, I'm with photography. They might've mentioned a new intern though, are you them- him?"  
Turquoise-eyes shakes his head as Peter opens the door. "Good, he's here!"  
"I'm not late-," he begins, only to realise they're not talking to him and the guy has been swept away by a group of people. 

Peter's coworker walks up, whistling as he does, "That's him? Well shit, he's too pretty for your age ain't he?"  
"Damn right, it's unfair honestly. Wait, that's who?"  
"He's-"  
"Hey guys set up your lights! We need everything ready and working as soon as possible. We want to get the checks done soon."  
Peter's coworker shrugs, "Duty calls buddy, let's go." And the brunette shoves his book back in his bag, leaving it in a corner before going to help set up. 

They finish placing and get an intern to stand around while they adjust the lights, realising they've been using the wrong screen and then swapping out the background for the pre-designated one; by the time they take a coffee break its been at least two or three hours. Peter thinks it's stupidly unfair that they'd forgotten to change the background before setting up. Just as he's finishing his coffee and putting away his book once more, turquoise-eyes is shoved back into the room with a woman fussing over his hair and he looks  _even better_ , if possible.

He's wearing navy-toned jeans, a dark strip of underwear showing above the buckles, and heck if that's an accident, Peter thinks he's blessed. The woman hands him a dark tank top, that he slips on as she removes the towel they'd been using around his neck, and he's handed a leather jacket -the flex of his arms  _definitely_ unfair as he slips it on, accentuating the dip and curve of his back- as he steps into the lights. 

He  _steps into the lights_  and Peter asks his coworker if he's an _intern_. Said coworker looks at him as if he's lost his marbles. "He's the  _freaking model,_  Parker," he gets a flick on his head as blood rushes to his neck and cheeks, embarassed spluttering all he's capable of until turquoise-eyes waves at him a little. 

Then he just wants to die, no regrets in his years thus far. 

"Right, people lets get this done quickly, I don't want to miss the game and I'm sure you don't either."

A few more words are said as Peter spaces out, still somehow thrown by the realisation he'd led a  _model_  to the photoshoot room. That's not even mentioning how nerdy and  _lame_  he was being, how his hair isn't falling right as of now, how the guy was ridiculously nice  _anyway_ , and how he'd  _genuinely believed_  turquoise-eyes was an _intern_.

He  _does_  get some great photos though, waiting for the chance to request a change in pose. When it comes around, his voice sputters and dies, and obviously the tan beauty sees this and asks for a coffee break even though  _he_  can't drink anything. The photographers just shrug, and turquoise-eyes walks up to Peter, "You would not  _believe_  the junk they put on my face, pocket-square, I didn't think they were  _this_ serious about a college part timer."  
"You too huh? They work pretty hard no matter who is involved. Technically if they mess up, the magazine covers will look wonky and  _they'll_ be the ones under deadlines to rework or get new photos," he realises just then he's rambling, but the boy doesn't stop him or protest against anything he says.

"So that means you've had to do it before," his smirk returns just as attractive as it had been and Peter chuckles wanly, "Several times. But never when  _I've_  chosen a pose."  
Turquoise-eyes definitely pulls off the vaguely impressed expression pretty well until he covers his mouth, causing the brunette's eyebrows to furrow, momentarily, then the guy is freaking _laughing,_  trying desperately not to and then offering, between laughs, "Well what'll it be then, pose-master?"

"I think I liked pocket-square more, coffee-break."  
"Okay I  _definitely_  liked turquoise-eyes more, and I asked for that break for you, captain-anxious."  
"Or, you know, you could just ask for my _name_."  
"Now where's the fun in that?" They get back to work, and this time Peter is smiling wider than he realises and knows exactly what poses to use. 

He gets the dark-haired boy to cock his hip to the left, drop his left arm straight down behind him and use the free one to push his hair back, legs apart just enough that his loose arm is seen through.  
Then he takes a complete 180 and has him sit on a stool, legs positioned just far enough the he can set one hand to the surface of the stool, just barely touching it and the other hand braces his body weight against it. He gets the lights off and takes a shot with blue-purple lighting that sets off his clothes and eyes to make them stand out against the dark. Peter almost regrets it because he's so close to  _swooning._

But it's just a photoshoot and soon enough they're packing up, laughing about dumb things and complaining about the time. Turquoise-eyes just stands there as the woman from before talks to him really fast and under her breath. He nods faintly, arms crossed and feet tapping; Peter  _knows_  he's just not listening. And it's pretty funny because occasionally she'll turn around and he'll roll his eyes or stick his tongue out. It's late evening when they're closing up, and Peter wants his phone number but doesn't have it in him to ask. So, of course, he doesn't.

\---

The next model is a brunette woman, she's very pretty, soft curves in the red dress she's wearing and a warm smile, but Peter spends more time on the lighting than behind the camera and sits in the corner studying his books as she's photographed. After that comes a blonde man, followed by an older gentleman with silver hair, a group of children for a catalogue, and then a woman in her twenties with a bright pink bob. None of these people phase him at all, mainly because he can only think of turquoise-eyes the whole time.

Imagine his expression when his shoulder is tapped in the hallway and someone asks, " _O_ _ù est la salle de_ _séance des photos_ , _s'il vous plaît?_ " Smoothly, and he can literally hear the wink in his voice. "Sure it's j- ch- _Turquoise-eyes?!_ "

"Nice to see you too pocket-square. And with the  _same book_  too."  
"Miraculously, my semesters don't end in three months."  
"And miraculously, you cut your hair."

"Hey! I get haircuts pretty often!"  
"Where? Three dollar stores?"  
He raises a finger to deliver his now-moot-point line, before realising this and dropping it.

He walks with the guy to their designated room again, keeping their casual conversation from before very easily as the guy talks about his college classmates, Peter talks about his courses and they find common ground on shitty professors. The higher ups are usually amazing, but there come times when the assigned college professors really do  _suck_  at their jobs. This time when they enter the room, there's no rush. Turns out turquoise-eyes is here fairly early, and when he asks if the job is regular the guy laughs, shakes his head and says he hadn't even expected to be called back  _today._

Peter's eyebrows raise. There is literally  _no way_  they  _wouldn't_  have called his guy back after the photos they'd gotten. Not to toot his own horn, but the photos  _he'd_ gotten. Turquoise-eyes apparently has _no clue_  of this, or even  _seen_  the final set of pictures; not even as magazine covers. 

"Are you  _kidding_  me, light-bulb?"  
"Oh shut up, biochem, I just haven't checked my email or my postbox."  
"For nearly three months?"  
" _So_  besides the point."  
"Oh no I don't think so. You are getting pictures later."  
"Yeah? And how, pocket-square."  
"From me, here, put your number in."

Turquoise-eyes stares for a second. "Well...that's awfully forward, don't you think?"  
Peter takes a second longer to process that before his cheeks heat up, but he doesn't drop the hand holding his phone either. One more beat. Silence. Then turquoise-eyes is laughing as he picks up the phone and enters his number, saving it as 'Where's the photo shoot room?' Before passing the phone back. Peter smiles inspite of his horrific embarassment and fires off an experiment text before putting his phone back in his pocket.  
Needless to say the second photo shoot is a lot better than the first one.

In the conversations that they have online, one thing that's recurring is that Peter  _endlessly forgets_  to send him the pictures from the first shoot, and he forgets and  _forgets_  until the second shoot is up in magazines and being sent off for  _posters._  He forgets to send those too, and the other's next job isn't with his agency so he has to hope they do good camerawork. He also subtly asks for the company so he can buy the magazine after. It doesn't occur to him to send over his magazine pictures until he actually gets a  _call_  from turquoise-eyes, "Biochem what the _fuck,_  why the  _fuck_  wouldn't you tell me they were printing a picture of me the size of half a  _building_?!"  
"They're- wait  _what?!_ "  
"It's outside my freaking  _window!_ "  
"Oh my god are you  _serious?!_ One of mine?!"  
"I don't even  _know_  which ones are  _yours,_  dude!"

  
And immediately Peter hangs up, sending over all of the pictures before he tapping his fingers against his leg, waiting with his phone unlocked.  
It pings as turquoise-eyes tells him which picture the billboard is, but he sounds almost shaky. Peter doesn't ask. The third time they meet, though they're always texting back and forth, is when Peter is  _really_  late to work because of a test. He clocks in just as they're wrapping up the shoot, which could've been for flannel shirts or wristwatches because  _hell if he knows._  And the guy gives him a small wave, sheepish grin momentary before he's back at posing the way he had been. Peter decides to just watch, fetching himself some coffee to settle down. And he makes up his mind to ask for the gorgeous guy's name today. 

A platinum blonde model walks in just as they let him leave, so he plops down on a plastic chair next to Peter and casually slips the coffee from his hands to sip. The light shimmer of gloss decorates the rim when it's passed back to him, and Peter can feel the blush on his face as he turns. Turquoise-eyes's lips are indeed coated in shiny pink gloss, and the tops of his cheeks are highlighted in what looks like gold, and when Peter  _finally_  looks down he sees what's probably the advert. Knee length boots with metal accents. 

He's even got a jacket to match, and above his boredom-induced half-lidded eyes Peter can see just a smidge of eyeshadow, silver and barely there, an upper lid line of thick black and lower rim an amalgam of black and gold that extends a little bit outwards the curve of his lower lid. His hair is ruffled up in light spikes, hints of an outgrown undercut showing when he scratches the back of his neck. "Look I'm sorry I forgot to tell you and all, but you can quit staring, Biochem."  
"No uh- hey, can I- do you mind-"  
"What? Dude are you okay?"  
"Can I- ugh,  _god,_  can I do my own photo shoot of this outfit later?"  
"What? Why? They literally just took-"  
"I know, but I just-"

He cuts himself off, trying to frame his sentence so he doesn't sound arrogant or obsessive, and he's still staring at the wall behind the model when turquoise-eyes shrugs, hand slipping off back of his neck, "Well, sure I guess? If you promise to send me the pictures after."  
"Yes, I will, for sure, gosh thank you."

And he gets an eye roll before his coffee is stolen again, but this time when he gets it back he somehow has a revelation that the gloss is rose-strawberry. It's not even half an hour before they cut for a break, and Peter is quick to ask for the set. The head photographer just sorta shrugs at him, knowing smile before he leaves with the platinum blonde model. Peter turns to see turquoise-eyes getting lectured by a stylist for smudging his gloss without finishing the shoot, and he can't help a chuckle at the sight, one he's  _sure_  the other had caught, judging by the not-so-subtle flipping off he gets.

A few dabs of gloss and he's on the makeshift stage again, standing as Peter adjusts the lights and cameras. He adjusts the poses, talking and laughing as he walks around the room and his blue-eyed model is all smiles between shots. Or are they green? 

By the time he's done, he feels giddy with excitement because he's  _sure_  he's gotten some amazing pictures. Peter's transferring pictures to his drive when the question occurs to him once more so he has to ask: "Can you... _what's your name?_ "

The guy doesn't stop laughing for five minutes straight, and at first he's miffed but he  _can't_ be at _that_  sound.  
"Please, dude, _please._  I want to know," he tries again. "Hey  _dude,_  it's printed on the  _magazine cover._ "  
"Yeah- but- I haven't read them yet, and I want you to tell me." He gets a shake of the head and more disbelieving chuckles that bore into his chest so he takes that as an answer. Until the guy coughs.

"...Sam."  
"What?"  
"I'm... _Sam Alexander._ "  
He forgets how to breathe for more than a moment when he sees the blush dusted across the other's still-gold-tinted cheeks. He forgets he needs to answer, almost, but he manages to pinch himself to say, "I'm Peter...uh, Parker."

Their time is up. The head photographer and current model enter the room as turquoise-eyes,  _gosh_  his name is  _Sam_ , stands up from where he'd been perched and goes into the back room to change. Peter scrolls through the pictures on his laptop, breath hitching at some of the more sensitive expressions he'd gotten, and he swears those need to be framed on a sixty foot wall. But only for his eyes, of course, and that's what he calls the folder as he sorts.

Sam comes back wearing a loose full-sleeve that says ' _Supernova'_  in bold font against the background of an exploded star over dark jeans, his ankle converse scuffing the floor as he slings his bag up. Peter grins as he stands up as well, snapping his laptop shut and shoving it in the bag he pulls over his shoulder before leading Sam out of the building. "So, uh...Sam."  
"Yeah?"  
He doesn't answer immediately, his train of thought just  _flies out his head_  and as he fumbles the other presses, "Whatsit, Parker?"

"Do you...I, uh, do you like ice cream? There's an ice cream store two streets away and we could-"  
The model smiles, even as he shakes his head, pushes off his legs and takes off running, calling, "Last one has to pay, nerd!"  
"So not fair, show off!"  
Peter ends up paying but he also finds out Sam isn't as much of a not-nerd as he'd thought, so the cost of two sundaes is worth it.  _So_  worth it, for their space-science discussions over said sundaes.  
Besides, Sam pays the next time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, I love getting comments and kudos! I hope you enjoyed it!  
> Also:  
> I'd written down the times and dates as I was writing, but I figured they'd be a nuisance to read through so I edited them out.  
> For reference sake;  
> (14 July 2017 0:15)  
> (14/7/2017, 21:39)  
> (15/7/2017, 23:26)  
> (16/7/2017, 21:47)  
> (17/7/2017, 23:07)  
> (18/7/2017, 23:47)  
> (24/7, 1:13)  
> (25/7, 1:35)  
> (27/7)  
> (28/7, 2:04)  
> (30/7, 1:53)  
> (31/7, 0:49)


End file.
